


FIRE

by Idiedyoung



Series: burning [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cancer, Established Relationship, F/M, POV Oliver Queen, Protective Oliver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 18:57:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12371982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idiedyoung/pseuds/Idiedyoung
Summary: Suddenly suffocating seemed like hell.And he was burning.olivers pov on finding out some news about felicity.





	FIRE

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys! this work (might) be a part of a series. but i wrote this to potentially set it up.

It was fire.

 

It was a searing passion that clogged his chest sometimes, made it hard to breathe.

 

It was suffocating.

 

It quite literally took his breathe away most moments.

 

And he loved it.

 

That's all he could think about as he stared at the woman lying next to him, beautiful even as she slept, regardless of the tear tracks remaining on her face. 

 

He was so used to passion, to the feeling of endless love that the sudden addition of sadness that sat atop his heart was suffocating him in a different way.

 

In a toxic way. 

 

Their day had been terrible to say the least.

 

This one changed their lives, and not for the better.

 

It started with the fevers.

 

She would get them at night, bundled In blankets, shivering her ass off. But her body temperature would be blazing, burning to the touch. 

 

He would pull the covers off her despite her protest and pull her close to keep her warm instead. She would bury her face in his neck and stay there until she awoke. He wouldn't move an inch.

 

Then came the bruising. 

 

He first noticed it a week after a particularly busy night...at home...ravishing her against the living room wall.

 

He had been rough with her then, but she gave just as much as she got. His hands gripped her hips, her thighs. His lips leaving purple marks in their wake. Her neck and chest had been littered with the evidence of that night. Her moans a beautiful memory.

 

But it was a week ago.

 

So when he saw the still deeply evident red handprint on her hip when her shirt rode up, he was immediately concerned. He had stalked over to her and lifted her shirt up more on the side.

 

She squeaked with surprise. 

 

“what're you doing?” She asked,the hint of amusement dropping off her face at the look on his.

 

When she looked down at the mark she looked extremely confused, like she didn't even know it was there.

 

And she had'nt.

 

He dragged her to the hospital a week later when her temperature reached 103.3.

 

She sat up in the hospital bed refusing to show weakness, even though he could tell by her constantly drooping eyelids she felt terrible. 

 

The doctors ran test and released her with some fever reducer, saying it was most likely a virus and she had to just tough it out.

 

That sated him temporarily. 

 

She had dove straight to bed when they got home, crawling to her natural place in his arms and sleeping well into the next day.

 

He awoke to the sound of his cell ringing from the living room, still in his jacket pocket.

 

He placed a kiss on her forehead then gently shifted away from her grasp.

 

He padded to his phone and caught it on the last ring. 

 

“Hello?” 

 

“Mr.queen, yes this is Dr.Burgesson from starling city general. I'm calling on behalf of Ms.smoak. We tried to reach her but it seems her cell is shut off.”

 

He glanced up and sure enough her phone was laying on the counter dead. She hadn't plugged it in last night like usual.

 

“I'm calling because we'd like Ms.smoak to come back in for a follow up exam as quickly as possible.”

 

That stunned him. As quickly as possible? 

 

“Um, yea, yes, of course doctor but is uh, is everything all right.”

 

He hadn't meant to sound so nervous.

 

“We would just like to see Ms.smoak asap if you please.”

 

That was a cryptic answer, he hated cryptic answers.

 

“I have an availability today at 4:00 and at 9 am tomorrow, though I would prefer it if I could see her today.”

 

Something was definitely wrong.

 

“Wow ok we will definitely be there today.”

 

The doctor sounded relieved.

 

“Excellent, see you soon Mr.queen.”

 

He hung up the phone with an eerie feeling. It didn't take a genius to know something was wrong, but he would be optimistic for her sake.

 

He looked at his phone, it was 12:27. He decided to give her another hour of sleep, he had a feeling she would need it.

 

And he was right.

 

The second they were with the doctor they took her away from him, whisking her off to run test that he couldn't remember the name of. 

 

They didn't release her until 10. She stumbled back into the room grumbling about shots and needles. 

 

She hated needles.

 

He just wrapped his coat around her to protect her from The February air an led her out of the hospital. 

 

He stopped by Big Belly Burger for dinner.

 

She ate her meal with little protest, even though get could tell she wasn't all that up to it. 

 

She dragged herself to bed, passing out immediately. 

 

He tucked her under the covers and turned the air on low to keep her cool. Something was wrong with his girl, and it was bad. 

 

He needed to hit something. 

 

He went to the foundry.

 

No one was there luckily. He was close to knocking the bag off the hook when his cell rang.

 

It was 6 am. He'd been down there for hours. 

 

He grabbed a towel, threw it around his neck and answered his phone. 

 

It was Dr.Burgesson. 

 

He had her test results. 

 

He wanted to see them immediately. 

 

He was fidgeting as they waited in the doctor's office. She put an hand on his knee and gave him a smile, the one that usually calmed him instantly. 

 

It worked, barely.

 

Dr.Burgesson arrived with three other people in tow. None of them looked happy.

 

He tried to listen to what they were saying, tried to ask the right questions. But he tuned out the minute they even said that word. That poisonous little word.

 

Cancer.

 

The hand she had on his knee fell limp. 

 

He knew if he looked over at her he'd break down.

 

So he looked forward and paid attention. 

 

Stage 2, signs of progression, he missed what kind they thought it was. She had to do more test.

 

Test, test, test.

 

Most included needles.

 

She fucking hated needles.

 

But not today. No test today. Tomorrow, after they processed this news.

 

Process.

 

How the hell do you process something like this.

 

He had no clue.

 

But had to figure it out. For her.

 

They were dismissed, with the notion to return tomorrow for testing and diagnosis. 

 

Tomorrow. 

 

They had barely gone through today.

 

He grabbed her hand as they walked, squeezing. She squeezed back harder.

 

He thinks he’ll be the one to bruise this time. 

 

They drive home in silence, he doesn't even Remember it.

 

He pukes as soon as he hits the bathroom, almost coughing up a lung in the process.

 

Cancer.

 

His girl had cancer.

 

What?

 

Shed had it for months, thats what they had said.

 

Since july. They couldve found out in july.

 

Thats 7 months. 7 fucking months.

 

He should've taken her in earlier, shouldn't have ignored it, shouldn't have taken her word for it when she said she was fine, when she told him not to worry.

 

He should've worried. 

 

He should've worried more.

 

He looked in the mirror, ashamed, disgusted.

 

How could he break down right now? 

 

Simple, he couldn't.

 

Not when she was out there, not ten feet away, needing him.

 

She needed him.

 

He had to be strong, for her

 

Always for her.

 

He walked out of the bathroom to find her crumpled on the couch, looking as lost as ever.

 

He sat next to her, and as soon as the first tears pooled in her eyes he pulled her into her lap, never letting her go.

 

She stopped crying after a while but he didnt let her go, just held her to him. She eventually fell asleep.

 

He didn't take her to bed until he saw the clock strike 3. 

 

3 am.

 

They'd been on the couch for hours. 

 

He knew his back would protest, but he lifted her and took her to their bedroom anyway.

 

He laid her down gently, not really wanting to let her go.

 

He debated falling into bed with her.

 

He knew he wouldn't sleep.

 

He walked back to the living room and picked up the papers the c doctor gave her.

 

He had forgotten all about tem. 

 

He couldn't bring himself to read them, not right now. It was too much.

 

He needed to hit something. So bad.

 

But he couldn't, wouldn't. Because she was here.

 

He wasn't leaving her, ever.

 

He’d never let her go.

 

He glanced at a photo of them hanging on the wall.

 

The day they got engaged. 

 

The day she agreed to marry him, to be with forever.

 

Tears pooled in his eyes.

 

His fiancee, his life. His source of passion and power. His strength. 

 

His girl.

 

He was so used to suffocating, drowning.

 

Never like this, never in defeat. It was always passion, it was always love. It was always pure adoration and respect. 

 

Never like this.

 

Suddenly suffocating seemed like hell.

 

And he was burning.

**Author's Note:**

> should I continue?
> 
> comments, kudos.


End file.
